Latest stories

  • With a Knife to the Side Chapter 1, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] Do not own Silmarillion. His mouth tasted like blood sneaking down his throat and hardened resolve sinking into his skin. The stone was cold along the ridges of his taut shoulders. His muscles were tight, so much so that he was shaking, and were visible through his skin. “You test my patience, Umbarto.” “Isn’t that what I always do?” he hissed out through the pulsing pain of the blood trickling down from the shallow wound on his side. “Yes.” It was said in such annoyance that the elf couldn’t help but smirk. “Sometimes I wonder if the wrong son of Fëanor was left on those ships.” His breath caught. What did that mean? “I wonder if Amras was the one asleep if he had been abandoned on the first ship, to burn and die a horrible death, condemned by his own father… I wonder if your little brother would have screamed for me.” That was a line Raiqifëa wasn’t allowed to cross. Amrod could weather the pain and taunts in silence; he could bear to hear his mother-name on his torturer’s breath; he could even accept the quiet version of his brother-in-law, the soft, pained one, that he hid […] More

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  • A Thank You to My Killer, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] “I came to thank you.” The voice came from above him. Thranduil lurched to look up, surprised by the sudden words. There, in the tree he leaned against, was an elf, with dark skin, and eyes that were the same shade, so much so that they almost blended into each other. He wore black leather armor and plates, and, well, in honesty, Thranduil had no idea who he was. “My sincerest apologies, but do I know you?” The elf gave a thin smile. “Perhaps you would recognize me better like this.” His face morphed to scales and his nose flared out and his hair fussed to his scalp. For a moment, the Elvenking found himself staring at the head of a dragon. And the scars on Thranduil, hidden under a layer of glamor, *burned* for looking at the one who had given them to him. But then the elf shifted back. “What are you?” he asked in a morbidly fascinated whisper. The elf, again, smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It matters not.” The words were sorrowful and soft. “I came to thank you,” he repeated. “For what?” Whatever the creature was here to thank him for, Thranduil […] More

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  • Tell Me of My Brother’s Fate Chapter 1, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] Do not own these characters or the cover art. Amras Feanorion knew only one thing for certain. One indisputable thing. He was dead. There was a cloth pulled over his memory and mind, one that blocked out what had happened, but he knew his fate to be death for certain. Why else would he feel like a spirit without substance, a ghost without skin to cover him? Why else could he touch the air around him, and yet not need to breathe? He could feel his body form itself into a shape. Fabric wrapped around his limbs; soft, copper hair bounded down his shoulders. But he could not see. Amras blindly shifted his head around, letting his senses as a hunter guide him instead. It was cold in the Halls of Mandos, something he didn’t expect it to be. The frigid chill was a dark, black one; that he knew, even without seeing. It felt like shards of ice laid over his fëar, a shirt of chain links or the mail of fish scales, fitted seamlessly into each other, folding and clicking when he moved. Amras could also observe the heat on his spirit, one that was too hot […] More

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  • Connected by Torment, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] I do not own Silmarillion, I just own Niquesuru and his sister. When the doors of Mandos loomed in front of them, Maedhros realized the problem he had. It hit him so strikingly and suddenly that he gasped. That, of course, drew the attention of his brothers, who turned to him. “What is it, hanno?” Celegorm asked. “What are we going to tell nanna?” he murmured. “What do you mean?” The inquiry came from Caranthir. “What do we say to her when all of her late children walk through her door, all but one?” Their faces paled. “We tell her the truth,” Amras said from behind them, “What else could we?” “You may not have to tell her even that.” Námo appeared in front of them, grey hood drawn over his hair and face. “For the fate of the elder Ambarussa is one she already knows.” “Did someone tell her?” Celegorm looked confused. No one missed the way Námo hesitated before answering. “Yes.” “Who? Was it one of the Maia?” Amras asked with curiosity. “No. But it matters not,” the Vala told them with a wave of his hand, “You will meet him soon enough.” Their keeper vanished and […] More

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  • Alone for the First Time in my Existence, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] Niquësúru threw the door open, expecting to see his bloodied elf friend in the corner. But Nalláma wasn’t there. Panicked, he sought out the nearest orc. “Where is Umbarto?!” His voice was thunderous, and the creature was instantly terrified of the half-Maia in front of him. “My lord…” he replied in a shuddering voice, “we moved him out of Mordor so that they wouldn’t find him if they raided the place.” Niquësúru’s hand shot out, the black dagger in clutched in his fingers slicing the orc’s head clean off. That was when it sunk it. Nalláma was gone. For the first time, in his life, he was alone, even with Caranaelen beside him, as she did not know him at all. He wept there in the corridor, black blade covered in black blood clattering to the floor, hands tangled in his hair. And for the first time in his existence, there was no comforting hand on his shoulder to guide him through his tears. Posher10 [ad_2] Source- Fanfiction.net Curated with permission from author More

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  • Snippets of a Song Chapter 1: Estellírë, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] Disclaimer: Don’t own this. Belongs to the Tolkien Estate. Do not own the cover-image. Yaddy yaddy yaddy. You’ve heard this all before. It was cold in the darkness of Angband, but that didn’t surprise the gold-eyed boy as he slipped through the shadows, unseen. That was something that was innate here. You went invisible around Morgoth’s servants, and no one knew it better than Niquësúru. Míryaruinë was beside him, and she wore the shades as a cloak around her almost as well as her half-sibling. Almost. It was known that no one could match the little boy in his silent glide through the blackness and over the cool stone. There was a reason he was called ‘Cold Wind’, that breath behind your neck and around your hair, the one that brought a chill down your spine. They had been called down from their hiding place—the tallest spire of Thangorodrim when the sun would hit the rock just right and, for once, you could feel some semblance of warmth in a place that had none—by a song. A beautiful song in Quenya, a language that they barely knew, and only from books that were scarce in a place like this. […] More

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  • The Nightingale in the Gilded Cage, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] In the darkness, they stood. His arms were wrapped around his waist; his head rested on hers. “The stars are beautiful tonight, meleth.” She murmured. He pressed a kiss to her black locks. “So are you, my dear.” Honestly, though, it wasn’t much of a compliment. He thought she was gorgeous even in rags covered with dirt. She gave a warm smile. “Trite,” Enyaliel muttered. Ringdae gave a snorted laugh but said nothing in reply. A lone caw sounded across the land, and the maid turned to look, closing her eyes bliss. “Do you know why the nightingale sings in the gilded cage?” She asked. His face twisted. “No. Why?” The land had become a battleground. Mountains were shattered, oceans evaporated, plains torn to pieces of dirt in the wind. This was the end; it had been foretold. Ringdae turned to Eönwë, who gave him a subtle nod, and the half-elf drew in a tense breath. Morgoth and his army were right in front of them. Valar against Valar. Maiar against Maiar. Brother against brother. Dagor Dagorath was here. “Little Raven.” The Fallen Valar called to Ringdae from across the field, and his grip on his knife tightened. He […] More

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  • Song of Memories, a silmarillion fanfic

    [ad_1] Maglor breathed out a sigh, resting his head on the tree. The images were always rampant in his head, but today, they were particularly worse. *Atar*, with his passion filled eyes. Celegorm, with his sly grins. Caranthir, with those trusting eyes. Curufin, with his strange sense of humor. Amrod, with his calm wit. Amras, with his teasing smile. Elrond, with his healing hands. Elros, with his fiery heart. But, out of all of them, the one that stung the most was that of Maedhros’. While others would image a demon of red hair and a flashing sword, a death bringer, a Fëanorion in every sense of the word, their leader, an oath-swearer, or that of a hideously scarred being, when he thought of Maedhros, the first thing he thought of was soft smiles tinged in the fire’s light. Tired eyes, trying to wrangle either set of twins. Old hands, ones that had been burned and battered, and one that was gone altogether. Poetry, written and recited under the Valinor sun. And he poured that into a song, one of heartache for all he had lost. Arda itself wept with him. Posher10 [ad_2] Source- Fanfiction.net Curated with permission from author More

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  • He was Changed When he Returned, Very Changed Chapter 1: Return, a Lord of the Rings + Silmarillion Crossover fanfic

    [ad_1] Disclaimer: I only own Thranduil’s sibling’s, nothing else. I also don’t own the cover image. Himdor paused from brushing his silver-white steed down, listening to the commotion outside with mild interest. That was all he ever felt anymore. Not joy or sorrow, nor grief or pain. Just, the interest since his littlest brother had died. The patrol had just… vanished. They had no one idea what had happened, but that was six months ago. They were all still trying to accept it. But that was hard. Death was not common for elves, especially in a time of such peace, and those who felt it had never known anything to hurt or sting so much. “It’s him!” “The prince!” “Isn’t he dead?” Himdor’s heart leaped into his throat at the last comment. Hope was spreading through him, unchecked. He squashed it. They were not talking about Thranduil. Still, he could not stop himself from setting down the brush and trying to walk slowly outside, but he knew that he failed. He saw where the crowd was around and pushed his way to the center. He saw the figure the crowd was around, his back to Himdor. Blonde hair, pale skin. […] More

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